


Brothers Grim

by nukabrola



Category: Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Seelie Court, Unseelie Court, bastardization of pagan rituals and general ignorance of folklore, because there's elements of feudalism but also Mary Shelly's Frankenstein, theres a wild hunt in here somewhere, this entire au is based in an ambiguous time period
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-09 07:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11100030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nukabrola/pseuds/nukabrola
Summary: Or: How to Fall in Love With One of the Fae and Get Away With itIn which Teddy Altman is a farm boy of unusual circumstance, Billy and Tommy Maximoff are powerful witches with a bloodline that commands respect from even the most uppity of the Seelie, the commanding general of the Wild Hunt has a thing for insubordinate human magic users who can dance with the best of them, and nobody is safe from the wrath of hungover huntresses.





	1. Sept. 8th, a Fortnight before Mabon

Theodore Rufus Altman is a respectable young man, son to a distantly widowed working woman. They live a ways off from the town center, on a good sized plot of land – too small to really be considered a farm, and too big to be an item of the dwindling peasantry– with their very own livestock, free from the oppressive ownership of any of the local lords. Ted takes care of the animals and tends to the gardens while his mother is off earning her wage, and is generally known to be a responsible boy with a good head on his shoulders.

Which, ironically, brings him to a place where most _responsible_ people dare not venture: the Maximoff cottage.

It’s not that the destination itself is particularly dangerous, though it _is_ the residency of the two local witches — it’s the journey that most would be too foolish to make alone or without some sort of weaponry. The path to the cottage cuts right through the meadow and leads deep into the forest; the very same rumored to be filled with all kinds of predators, not to mention roaming _fae_.

All Teddy has to his name for the journey is a travelling cloak, a bundle of food and a bit of water, his and his mother’s emergency savings, and the knife he uses to butcher the meat for winter.

So perhaps it’s not the _smartest_ trip to make, but their cattle are coming down with some nasty illness, and he’ll be damned if he lets himself and his mother starve. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saddles the old plow horse, Whinnyfred, and makes his way down the trail to see the magic workers. He might not have much, but what he _does_ have is confidence that if he pulls through, they won’t be going hungry in the coming frost.

**☾**

The warmth from the late summer sun is a comfort on Billy’s back as he hefts himself up the wooden ladder, picking the apples off the tree and throwing them down to Tommy. It’s a wonder that the heat has lasted this long, though there’s enough of a chill that the twins are wearing their cloaks; _he’s_ just happy that it’s pleasant enough to be collecting apples this late in the month. Usually as they approach _Mabon_ he and Tommy have to fight over who faces the biting winds and chilled fingers.

He hums as they work, finally gathering up a nicely fully crate of fruit – enough to make some nice treats for the harvest ceremony, and then some to store as cider for the later months. Hauling the basket back to the cottage is an affair full of bickering, mostly over whether they should _bake_ the apples or spend the extra money on wheat and _meal_ them. The argument fades as Billy goes to store them and Tommy runs off to do whatever it is he does with all that tea when he _feels_ it.

“Billy,” and so Tommy must feel it too; the runes on the edge of their territory have been breached by one of the fair folk, “why is there a _changeling_ at the gate?” His twin doesn’t sound worried, which is a good sign, but there’s a healthy amount of skepticism to it, too. Scrambling down from his perch in the kitchen, Billy goes to peer out the window alongside Tommy.

Sure enough, there’s a man and his horse standing just outside the wooden gate fencing in the front of their cottage. He looks rather out of place, and _entirely_ too normal for one of the fae. What’s more – he rings the bell attached to the post of the fence, which in of itself is _wrong_ for anything even remotely magical to be doing. Fairies aren’t _polite_ to those they deem inferior, those being humans, even to human witches; they don’t use their manners and they _certainly_ don’t ring the bell.

The twins stare aghast at their newfound company, before launching into a fit over who should go greet the man at the gate. Tommy pushes him towards the door, hissing, “I’m not good with visitors!” and he’s tugging him right along, squeaking about _shyness_ and _getting the last one_.

Unfortunately, he’s a bit too distracted and is already out the door before he can convince his twin to take his place.

Nervously, Billy makes his way down the little path that leads to the front gate, ignoring the little stepping stones and shuffling towards the man with his hands clenches around the edges of his cloak. Mustering up enough courage to look the man in the eye, he’s actually a bit _stunned_ at what he sees — though he _shouldn’t_ be, fae are known for their attractiveness — but those are lovely blue eyes and very soft looking hair, and by the Goddess those muscles…

He knows he’s gone red in the face by the look the stranger is giving him. Clearing his throat, quietly, to himself, he straightens up in front of his company and offers a smile.

“Ho, traveller.” Internally, he cringes at the shaky tone his voice warbles out. For all the trips they make to the market, and all the forays into the Feywild, he still has to prepare himself for a conversation with anyone that isn’t Tommy. Steeling himself, he asks the obvious question; “What bring you all the way to the cottage?”

The traveller pats his horse’s flank, offering a smile that makes the witch’s insides twist up all funny. “I’m seeking some help,” he’s soft spoken, with a gentle tone, “see, my cattle are falling ill, and I can’t seem to figure out why, but I was wondering if you might have some sort of remedy for this?” His stranger straightens up, eyes widening a bit, seeming to remember something – “Sorry, I completely forgot my manners!” he sticks a hand out, over the gate, smiling brighter, “Theodore Altman, nice to meet you.”

Now, it’s _Billy’s_ turn to be surprised. One of the fae offering a _name_? Not a pseudonym, or a nickname, but a full honest-to-goodness name! Either something is very wrong about this fae, and he’s actually been kept in the dark about his heritage, or he’s trying to pull the wool over Billy’s eyes like he’s a common townsperson. A little distant in his thoughts, he takes the man’s hand and gives it a shake, revelling in the warmth of the callused skin.

“Cattle.” the witch hums, making to pull open the gate, watching this man – Theodore – carefully. “Well, come in. You can tie your horse to the post, I’m sure we won’t be long.” Livestock are common reasons people come to visit the cottage; everything from bad water to illness to fairies playing tricks on the unwitting. “I’ll see you in the house. Remember to take off your shoes.”


	2. Sept. 8th, Waxing Gibbous

Teddy doesn’t think he’s ever seen anybody more beautiful in his life.

  
There’s too much to name that he doesn’t even know where to begin. Everything from that soft looking dark hair, to the freckles, to the rich deep red of his cloak and how it frames him – it’s all entrancing. Embarrassed, he catches himself in his thoughts when he sees the look on the boy’s face; he’s gone red which plunges Teddy into a quiet panic. Did he notice me looking? Oh God, what if he noticed me looking?  
But their conversation goes well enough, even if it is a little straight to the point. Hitching up Whinnyfred to the post, he follows the path up to the door and cautiously steps inside where the door was cracked open, shutting it softly behind him. The first thing that hits him is the deeply ingrained scent of incense, herbs and spices, that cling to the atmosphere; it’s honestly a little dizzying. Remembering himself, he unties his boots and leaves them neatly by the door, stepping beyond the threshold.

  
He finds himself in a small sitting room, light filtering in from a bay window choked with hanging flowerbeds. The room itself is warm and homely, with a comfortable looking sofa and a couple of chairs surrounding a table patterned with odd looking designs. There are a few bookshelves along the walls and a nice little fireplace, but as nice as the picture is, he has to do a double-take at the sight before him.  
The man from the entrance is there, looking as lovely as ever, but there seems to be a copy of himself sitting right beside him – except drained of color. Where his greeter is clothed in red and has dark hair, the newcomer is donned in a dark black cloak with a silver trim, and snow white hair. The two are speaking in hushed tones, but stop when the dark haired one notices him and waves him over with a soft smile.  
He takes a seat at his insistence, nodding to the white haired copy. “Hello,” he begins, hand outstretched, “I’m Theodore Altman. You both can call me Teddy, if you like.” And though the other boy takes his hand, he feels like he’s said something wrong, because he gets the same reaction to his introduction as he did from the red-wearing one. He lets his hand drop, sitting in rigid posture on the edge of the sofa, a bit nervous.

  
Thankfully, small, dark, and handsome breaks the tension – “It’s good to meet you, Teddy.” It sounds genuine enough, even if a little stilted. “I’m William Maximoff, though you can call me Billy,” and it seems like they’ve both got a penchant for nicknames, “and this is my brother Thomas, though you can call him Tommy. I was just telling him about your livestock conundrum.”  
Which brings him no small amount of relief; they get to talking and after a thorough description of symptoms (which leads to grumbling from Tommy about ‘mischievous, ugly pixies’) he’s left with Billy as the other twin zips off to go get what he needs. Glancing around the room to avoid awkward eye contact with the witch when he so happens to spy a book lying out on the table, freshly bound and well taken care of — Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein.

  
At first, he can’t believe his eyes; the object of his latest obsession, right here, in this tiny cottage, perhaps belonging to this lovely looking boy. His mother had nabbed him a copy on one of her market trips; a rather pricey birthday gift, but one he enjoyed greatly.

  
Shyly, he turns to Billy, placing a gentle hand on the book. “Y’know...I just recently read this.” he bites his lip for half a second, giving the boy a smile, “did...you like it?”  
And Billy seems to light up like taking a flame to dry wood, his eyes wide and bright with excitement – and what pretty eyes they are, that glowing dark hazel – straightening a bit in his chair. “You’ve read it? I didn’t think anybody else cared about stuff like this!” the witch scoots forward onto the edge of his seat, gesticulating, “I’ve never read anything like it! Attempting to not just resurrect, but create life? And without an ounce of magic, what a wild idea!”

  
Teddy finds himself enthralled, a small smile on his face, wondering just where this boy has been all his life. “I know, it was a real whirlwind of a story. It’s a work of fiction, sure, but how does a person even think up something like that?” He leans forward, taking his hand off the book and putting his elbows on his knees, talking animatedly, “I wonder if something like that could ever happen...though,” his smile turns to a bit of a frown, concerned, “I wouldn’t want a poor creature like the one in the book running around. It’s terrible how they treat him, you know? It’s not his fault that he looks how he does, or that he’s been born into this society.”

  
Nodding along sagely, the witch flicks his bangs out of his face, focused, “See, if anybody would be possible of something like this, it would be the Starks. You can’t just...summon life into being with magic. Well – you can, but it’s going to be pulled from some other plane of existence, and most likely going to be some sort of demonic monstrosity.”  
They go on and on and on about the intricacies of the writing, the plot, really everything from Victor’s wife to the monster’s damn left foot when Teddy notices their proximity. Somewhere along the way, they’ve both ended up leaning halfway off their chairs over the table in the center, peering over the pages and fingers brushing. He pulls back slightly at the realization, cheeks no doubt blooming pink, scratching the back of his neck with a bashful grin.

  
“Wow,” comes a voice from the doorway – Teddy has to resist the strong urge to leap back like he’s some sort of thief – revealing Tommy, standing there for who knows how long, “I didn’t think there was anyone else on this Earth as nerdy as Billy.” He’s swinging some sort of charm on his finger by the rope of it, the cat that got the cream, “Congratulations, you’ve found your match, Billy!”  
This time it’s Billy’s turn to pinken, though he takes the teasing with a certain amount of grace. He makes to open his mouth, to do what, he doesn’t know – maybe defend their dignity or deny any happenstance. Tommy, however, doesn’t really seem to care, and presses the item into Teddy’s hands.

  
“It’s an Odal rune,” he explains, “Made of iron. Supposed to protect the estate, and it’ll ward off the lesser fae with any luck. Just, y’know, hang it above the barn doors. Should work.” Teddy nods with the words, grabbing the rune by its rope when the iron seems to tingle in his hand – odd. He’s not in any place to really question the magic of it, though, so he just pulls out his coin pouch and asks “How much?”  
Billy waves him off, though Tommy seems to sour at the idea, “Don’t worry about payment, it’s really not all that big of a deal.” he frowns and opens his mouth to protest, but Billy beats him to it – “Besides,” he says, smiling, and how could he argue with a face like that, “you already sort of paid me in conversation."

**☾**

Eventually, after a bit more conversation, a little tea, and another refusal of payment, they shoo Teddy off so that he can make it home before the sun starts to set. It wouldn’t do to have a traveller out late at night, not in these woods; even if the boy was supposedly a changeling. Tommy and Billy break from each other for a bit – Billy to gather up all the magical instruments requiring moon charge and set them by the window, and Tommy to begin on making dinner.

  
He’s staring into his broth when Tommy breaks the silence, tone aloof, “Your new suitor didn’t seem to affected by that charm, y’know, for one of the weaker inclined fey.”

  
Billy just rolls his eyes, flicking a little bit of butter at Tommy and snickering when it hits him on the nose. “Do you think the wards could be incorrect?” he asks, though it’s hardly likely – as Eisenhart territory, even as out of the way as the cottage was, the wards were all done personally by the Scarlet Witch. Otherwise known as the most powerful sorceress under both the moon and the sun, fae notwithstanding. “He seemed really normal, so maybe it’s just that he is a changeling but doesn’t know it. Some people don’t follow through with precautions, apparently, these days.”  
Tommy’s silence is worrying; he’s got good intuition for these things, and doesn’t seem convinced.

  
“That, or he’s immensely powerful, and iron barely tickles.” his twin plays with his spoon, swirling his broth, seeming as if he’s thinking hard. Billy’s not as wary; Teddy had manners, was downright polite, offered to pay, and didn’t seem all too concerned at the last name of Maximoff. Every being with so much as a drop of magical blood came to know and respect (perhaps fear) their coven after Grandfather Erik took over the mantle. He meets his brother's eyes, smile brittle, and asks the damning question:

  
“What have we gotten ourselves into?”


	3. Sept. 14th, Eight Days Until Mabon

Teddy hung up the small iron rune over the barn doors as soon as he got home, hoping for the best. The twins’ intuition was seemingly correct; the strange warts had faded from the cattle in a few days time, and they’d become even livelier than before. And while he’s thankful for the cure – protecting the cattle and not putting them out, money wise, either – it seems that just as he’d solved one problem, another reared its ugly head. His mother had been acting a bit off, as if she was catching cold.

His thoughts drift to the feeling of the charm when he had taken it and when he’d hung it up; the strange tingling sensation. It had done wonders for the cattle, but he’s concerned it might be affecting his mother’s health. She’d been avoiding the barn, not that it was really her responsibility, and had been seemingly a bit put off her meat. If it were anyone else, Teddy would just write it off as a cold, but his mother _rarely_ took ill. The last couple of days had been worse, seeing her hands shaking in the light of the full moon at night, face tinged a bit green.

He’s worried, to say the least.

Walking back to the house from the fields, he’s contemplating another visit all the way out to the witches’ cottage, though he knows Whinnyfred won’t be the slightest bit happy. If anything, the twins might have answers for this weird sickness befallen on his mother, and he’ll get to see that lovely Billy Maximoff again. He’s so very lost in thought that he’s halfway to opening the door when he notices that the handle is rather...feathery.

In fact, that’s not the handle at all – it’s a tiny little finch, now screeching at him, that he’s nearly grabbed. In his bewilderment, he leaves his reaching hand a bit too close to the bird and gets pecked in the index finger for the trouble. Nasty thing.

Pulling his hand back with a soft hiss and shaking it out, he studies the bird that’s come to deny him entry to his own home. It’s a pretty thing, white breasted with a shining silver back, and a pattern of black feathers around its throat that look like a mock collar. They both stand there for a moment, Teddy unsure of his next move and the bird undoubtedly mocking him. He’s about to shoo the thing away when it opens its beak and _talks_.

“Teddy Altman!” it says, in a very bright voice belonging to a glowing boy, “Sorry for the shock, but I – Billy Maximoff, the witch –” there’s a bit of nervous laughter there, “sent this bird to invite you over for tea, today. Just, um...well! I guess you’ve got no way of transcribing your voice to the bird like I do, so, I suppose if you’d like to...join for tea, um…” Billy sounds so flustered, and Teddy can’t help but feel warm inside about how adorable this boy is, “...maybe just, give the bird a flower, or something? And I’ll send over some safer transportation. Again, sorry about the strange talking birds! I would have sent over a letter or something, but all the owls are asleep and this was the only other bird Tommy had as of...six this morning.”

He already finds himself reaching for the nearest plant – _weed, weed, too thorny, too heavy_ – and settles on a small buttercup before the bird’s even finished...talking, “a-anyway! _Ihopetohearfromyousoonbye_!”

Message relayed, the bird snatches the offering of the flower from his fingers, scratches his hand with those vicious little talons, and is off on its way.

Teddy feels a little faint.

**☾**

Billy Maximoff, son of the Scarlet Witch, powerful sorcerer and overall moon-affinity extraordinaire, is an **idiot**.

At least, that’s what he’s telling himself as he bonks his head against the soft plaster next to his bedroom window, contemplating on risking a time-altering spell to save himself from his self-inflicted embarrassment. Actually, he thinks, in retrospect – it’s that damn bird’s fault! Flying off before he could get a word in edgewise, it really _did_ belong to his brother, in more ways than one. All he really wanted was to see if, maybe, by chance, that nice farm boy from the other day would want to, perhaps, meet for tea out in the garden and, possibly, y’know, _talk_.

Instead of a polite, eloquent message, the bird flew off with a stuttered, flustered, most-probably unwelcoming invitation to – do what? Ride all the way out to the forest? Did he even _mention_ tea? Groaning quietly, he stops trying to brain himself on the flat wall and pulls back to examine the room. It’s clean enough, if a bit cluttered with witchy lived-in-ness.

Distantly, he can hear the sounds of Tommy slaving over breakfast, and perhaps making a couple preparations for Mabon. There was a little over a week left before the festival – a week before their trip back to the coven manor, really – and Billy was beginning to dread every moment they inched closer to facing Grandfather Erik. You cast a sleeping spell over a French castle town _one time_ and get yourself exiled to a cottage in the middle of Backwater, Scotland with your twin brother. If _Tommy_ had done it, they’d still be getting into all sorts of trouble in Spain. Damn favoritism.

He sighs, pulling off his sleepwear and casting a _prestidigitation_ spell (might as well look presentable) before grabbing his cloak, trudging down the stairs to weasel some eggs and toast out of Tommy.

His twin looks up from a copy of _Pocket Dimensions and You_ when he walks in the room, raising an eyebrow at Billy. “Up before noon on a full moon night?” he asks, feigning disbelief, “What’s the world coming to?” Billy just sticks his tongue out at him, grabbing a couple of magically-still-warm eggs and a few pieces of toast, covering them in jam. He eyes his brother while stuffing his face; Tommy is always up with (and sometimes before) the sun, practically vibrating with constant energy. He’s got the same restless gene as their uncle does – he can barely settle down, always has to be occupied, and most nights doesn’t sleep for longer than the bare minimum.

Though, that part is mostly due to...unfortunate pasts. Another reason why they’re so out of the way, in this cottage. Nobody ever wants to see Tommy go through the events of so many years ago, again.

He still gets nightmares that stir Billy from spell-haze in the middle of night rituals, and that’s _something_.

At some point in his musings, Tommy’s walked over and stolen a piece of toast, because he’s munching on one all the way across the room, grinning at Billy. That’s the thing about sun-affinity temporal witches: you _cannot_ trust them around your food. “Oh, ha _ha_ ,” he sneers at his twin, slouching into a pout, “let’s steal sustenance from poor old Billy. It’s not like he needs food to live.”

Tommy just snorts and rolls his eyes, the last of the toast disappearing into his mouth, speaking around it like an animal, “You’ve got a bat on your lapel, Bill.” squinting at Tommy for a second, distrustful, he looks down at the cloak covering his chest and – oh, yes, that’s a bat. Poking it awake, he offers the tiny thing a bit of jam, snickering when it licks it off of his finger. Lovely animals.

“So,” he starts, detangling the bat from his cloak and hanging it up with the drying herbs, “what’ve we got left to do for Mabon?” Tommy gives pause, concentrating, allowing a small notebook to appear in his hands with a flash of silvery-green energy. Flipping through it, he hums, frowning, “Well, we’ve already got the apples, and we’ll do all the cooking back at the manor.” Inwardly, Billy groans, the _manor_. “It’s about time to plant the garlic, so I’m gonna do that today. You already put all the stuff that needed to be charged out, so we’ve got that taken care of, um…” he flips through the little book, worrying his lip, “Really all we’ve got left to do is just clean, which will take up the last of the time between now and when we need to take the ‘port circle to the manor.”

Billy nods, humming, before giving his brother a slightly sharp look, a glint in his eye “You know...the Unseelie should be holding a revel tonight…” He is highly convinced this won’t work. Tommy’s very firmly against getting into fae-related trouble before they go off to see the relatives; fae magic rubs off on them and stays for quite a while, and manages to send their mother into a worrying fit. They’re both too much of mommy’s boys to do anything bigger than getting a _little_ drunk and doing some dancing at a time like this, but it’s also the harvest moon.

He’s expecting more of a fight, but Tommy just looks at him for a moment, squints, and says “We’ll see.”

And it’s honestly more than he was expecting, so he’ll take it.

Halfway through running over to wrap his twin in an obnoxious hug, just to get on his nerves, the messenger finch flies in through the cracked window and lands on his twin’s head, dropping a small yellow flower onto his nose. Laughing, Billy takes the delicate plant and twirls it between his fingers before the _realization_ hits him like a sack of stone giant droppings, and he’s bolting out of the kitchen and up to the study with a speed that would put his brother to shame.

Tommy, bewildered, stands there with a finch nesting in his hair and contemplates the merits of a nap before dealing with any more of this shit.


	4. Sept. 14th, Third Night of the Harvest Moon

Growing up on a farm in a small town, Teddy has grown into  _ practical _ expectations of the world, and the people around him. He’s a young man with a decent set of morals; fair trade for fair gain, and a ‘do unto others’ mindset. When the message from Billy had mentioned transportation, he was very nearly about to refuse – tell the messenger bird that he’d make his own way just fine, but it had been off before he could get a word in. So, he waits like the polite person he is, with some barely contained excitement, mind, but waits nonetheless. Keeping an eye out for a horse, or a buggy, or – god forbid – a carriage. 

What he does  _ not _ expect, however, is a  _ broom _ to be knocking at the door. 

Lord almighty, what has he gotten himself into, with this boy? First a talking bird with messages about tea time, and then an...animated household object to spirit him away to said tea time, he presumes. Are there cautionary tales about going along with strange magical objects? Because he’d  **really** rather not be the first; “Now kids, don’t go grabbing on to any floating brooms, or you’ll end up like ol’ Teddy Altman, who was eaten alive by monsters.”

Or something like that, probably. 

Swallowing his fear (combating it, really, with thoughts of cute boys) he writes out a small note to his mother –  _ ‘gone to tea with a friend, be back soon’  _ – and approaches this weird new mode of transportation. It’s been swinging in place by the door since he found it, seemingly unaffected by the world at large. Cautiously, Teddy reaches out and puts his hand on the neck of the broom…

And, nothing. 

Okay, he says to himself, what now? He sets his other hand on it, attempting to shift it upright (and do  _ what  _ after that, he’s not sure) when the damn thing jerks and smacks him in the side of the leg. For something so flimsy looking, that  _ hurt _ , and Teddy finds himself hopping a bit to rub at the spot where the blasted thing decided to cause him random bodily harm, 

The broom takes this chance to get under his raised leg and lift him off. 

There’s a bit of undignified screeching after that point, and a whole lot of shuffling, followed by rigid stillness at having  _ both feet off the ground _ . The hell object seems to be taking it slow, for his sake, because Teddy’s wobbly and unbalanced and it’s not doing a whole lot of good for his self-esteem in this sort of situation. It propels them up into the air – Teddy hopes his neighbors, however far out they may be, aren’t looking in his direction – before taking off with a short gust of wind, blowing them over the scenery at a rapid pace.

After the initial apprehension and fear of falling, Teddy finds himself enjoying their flight as they cut through the air. He laughs giddily, knuckles still bone white on the wood of the broom, shouting excitedly as they pick up more speed. Horses, especially plow horses, do not move this fast. Watching under himself as they approach their destination, he picks out a few of the neighbors’ houses and barns, finds the stone fence landmarks, and is genuinely surprised at how quickly the scenery melts into the meadow. 

As he nears the forest, the broom lifts him higher and higher to compensate for the tree line, and Teddy regrets not grabbing a heavier outer layer. Though, really, he can’t tell if all this shivering is really from the cold or the excitement. The sun, however, is a comfort on his back.

**☾**

He’s (to put it politely) a little stressed. 

This plan was so half baked it’s not even  _ funny _ , and that sudden realization is even  _ less so _ . Billy Maximoff, what were you thinking? Who invites a changeling to tea? Even more dastardly – who invites a boy you fancy to tea! They could go anywhere, but  _ tea _ ? And he’s already sent the broom, so they’re at that no-taking-it-back point. 

Okay, he might be panicking a little. 

But he has every right to be! While this entire situation might be of his own doing, there’s still so many things wrong with this plan that it would be weird if he wasn’t. He hurried on upstairs as soon as the bird came back to send off the broom, and  _ that _ went well enough, but now he’s having a wardrobe crisis. Scrambling to put on some nicer clothes – more ‘casual trip to town’ and less ‘loungewear’ – and throwing off his cloak to grab a newer one with a more vibrant shade of red and  _ less holes _ . His room looks like it’s been ransacked by redcaps afterwards, clothes strewn about and thrown over every surface. Billy spends about five, maybe seven, more minutes checking himself in the mirror for any flaws before remembering  _ where _ they’re taking their tea and stumbling down the steps and into the garden patio. 

The witch nearly shrieks at the state of the deck. Okay, so it’s really not  _ that _ messy, but it’s not organized. Floundering in place for a bit, he rushes back and forth, lining herb pots up on the low brick barrier lining the stone flooring of the patio. Nearly tripping over himself in his excitement while moving all the charging stones and crystals out of the way, he gets about as far as the bloodstone before he’s interrupted.

“So,” Tommy begins, standing there in some old work clothes, one hand on his hip and the other pointing at Billy with a gardening trowel, “Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life, dear brother of mine, but I think you’re forgetting something.”  Billy practically has another crisis, looking down at himself and then around frantically, spinning and giving Tommy a desperate glance. Before he can open his mouth, Tommy’s already speaking. “Billy,” he sounds like he’s trying to stay straight-faced, “You’re a Spatial Witch. It’s a full moon. Use  _ magic _ .”

It takes Billy a minute to process that — he’s, he’s a…?  _ Oh _ . 

Feeling like he’s been slapped in the face (because he has, he facepalmed), he gives Tommy and embarrassed laugh and turns away, digging his wand out of one of the many hidden pockets in his cloak. He taps it on his thigh to wake it up a bit, the hawthorn wood warming in his hand. Lifting the wand with a flourish, he delights in the little burst of blue magic. 

Billy dims his focus down to a point, drawing loose runes in the air, smiling at the way the little crescent moon charm dangles from the end of his wand. With a couple waves of a hand and soft muttering, the garden is in order once more, looking rather picturesque if he does say so himself. Tommy pats him on the shoulder, smiling, before trekking deeper into the garden to finish his work. 

Nodding at his results, Billy tucks his wand back into its pocket and retreats inside, grabbing the tea blend and the set.

**☾**

See, Billy doesn’t believe in love at first sight — it’s all hoax-y bewitchment crap or simple infatuation. Goddess knows how many times the twins had faced a small-town scandal of a poor lad or dame being seduced by one of the fae and then left with some nasty blowback. Unseelie generally just delight in being casually cruel to humans, and the Seelie take offense to everything; combine these and you oft end up with needing witch-doctoring. So, while ‘love at first sight’ might be out of the question, the combination of  _ chemistry _ , good looks, and mutual willingness are most certainly  **not** . 

Basically, this is how he and Teddy end up huddled together on the edge of the garden’s pond. 

The tea had been wonderful, filled with great conversation and a side of flirting. Billy had suggested a walk to show off the vast array of plants and strange objects in the back yard of the cottage (most certainly bigger than it looked, gotta love cloaking spells), and they had taken a rest by the small pond in the center of the middle lawn. 

Eventually, he’d gotten tired of fiddling with the edge of his cloak, and had instead grabbed for Teddy’s hand. A much warmer, interactive alternative. Warmed deep in his bones by the  _ smile _ his companion had given him, Billy felt lighter than air. Lighter than air, apparently, but most definitely pulled in by the other boy’s gravity.

Teddy’s other hand comes to cup the side of Billy’s face, tilting it and steadying him in the wake of a soft kiss. It feels so good and  _ right _ that the witch can’t help but smile into it, grin breaking through each time they press their lips together. Eventually it devolves into happy, soft nuzzles – too busy snickering into the kisses to really get anything productive done. 

The air shifts and brings them a nice, warm breeze, the last vestiges of summer. With it comes a devious thought; leaning over to dip a few fingers into the pond, he snatches up some water onto his fingers and  _ flicks _ it at Teddy’s face. 

Teddy looks bewildered for a second, before snorting and mussing Billy’s hair. “That’s just  _ rude _ ,” he complains, hefting Billy up and hauling him onto his lap, “I’ll have to get you back for that one.”  Billy squeaks when Teddy nips at his lower lip, then crumbles into giggles as those hands move up to  _ assault _ his sides in tickles. 

He’s halfway to squirming off Teddy’s lap, fending off the coming onslaught, when —

“Well, gee, nephew,” comes a sly voice, a bit muffled, “I hope I’m not  _ interrupting  _ something.” 

Billy’s gone so red he thinks he might just  **match** his cape. He curses himself internally; should have known better than to glance off a pond used for  _ scrying _ when he’s still got magic clinging to his fingers from earlier. Gritting his teeth quietly and putting on his best smile, trying to not seem  _ too  _ embarrassed, he turns to face the pool, hoping that Teddy’s now out of frame.

“Pietro,” he squeaks, blushing harder when his voice cracks. Fuck. “Um. Wrong spell?” 

His uncle, the bastard, just smirks at him. “I’ll bet, kiddo.” smug asshole. “You’re redder than Erik when he found out I used the ‘port circle to take a week off and head to the tropics.” ugh, he remembers that – it’d been when they were still back at the manor. Grandpa had been so  _ mad _ . “But, hey, don’t feel too embarrassed. Oh, y’know what! I’ll just add your boyfriend to the guest list for  _ Mabon _ to make it up to you.” 

Billy feels like his world’s about to come crashing down simply from this conversation. Stupid meddling family members. “Wait, don’t — !” he gets about halfway through his protest before Pietro’s gone and talked over him; “Hey, you don’t have to thank me, Billy,” there’s a sharp glint in his eye, that Billy knows means Pietro’s getting  _ revenge _ for  _ something _ , “I’m sure your mom will  **love** to meet him.”

With that, the pond gurgles and ripples back out from where it was previously glass-smooth, leaving plain old enchanted water in wake of Pietro’s reflection.

“Wow,” Teddy starts,  _ also _ red in the face, but patting Billy’s back, “and I thought my uncle was a jerk.” He shoots his companion a wobbly smile, rubbing his cheeks; maybe things are gonna be okay. 

“Yeah, that’s just...Pietro.” it’s not a really good explanation, but it’s all he’s got. Turning back to face Teddy, he gives him a shy look, “He was talking about the annual family harvest festival — not that you actually have to come! He’s just being a huge goblin shit. But. um. If you  _ wanted _ to, you-you’re invited. Again! Not that you have to, it’s just – “

“Billy,” he’s cut off by the blond, thank goodness, who knows where he was gonna ramble to, “I’d love to come.” 

“Oh!” Billy feels like his heart is about to burst out of his chest in excitement —  **he wants to go!** Nodding rapidly, he practically bounces in place, laughing. “In that case, um,  _ Mabon  _ is in eight days. Wear something nice, but don’t worry about bringing anything else since you’re a guest. I’ll, um. I’ll send the broom over before we leave.” Teddy just nods along like this is  _ normal _ , and Billy is wondering what he did to deserve someone like this.

**☾**

Hours later, when Billy’s settling down for bed, he comes upon the  **horrifying** realization that he just invited Teddy Altman, his possibly-maybe-boyfriend, to meet his  _ insane _ and  _ terrifying  _ family. 

He’s wishing for that time spell again.


End file.
